Welcome Home

23 enero 2007

Welcome Home

There is no dark side of the moon really, ...

Hello, welcome to my shroud.

Don't you feel like it? Don't you feel quite like... HOME?

I can only see shadows dancing on the wall, like flying cimitarrs. Dunk when you stare at 'em. Cut when you don't.

Because the shadows will bring more shadows, they will divide the light in two parts. And a shadow that is son of a shadow and shadow of light is more shadow than light. It's everything black. And when two shadows meet in the wall they will merge in a shadow blacker than black. And if you scare them with a torch in your hand, turn off and they're back. Shadows, masters of the sneak attack. Everything's black.

Ships of man can just navigate when the shadows hide the hearts of the crew. They take away your truth. Goodbye to light. Because, here at your own, you cannot beware of how much shadow is there. And then one day, you'll find your hand has been dying. Try to forget. Now you cannot grab with your hands all your dreams, which you left on the flat. They weight too much. And your fingers cannot close to grab the life that is slipping away from your mouth, your ears, your nose. Your knees will hold you no more. You will fall in the hole "of no turning back". And that's all you have. And the grim shadows will salute you "Welcome back home". I can't see at all.

... the matter of fact it's all dark.